


The Ghost of You

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, Army, Boys In Love, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deductions, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, Hurt John Watson, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Nightmares, Sad Ending, Sleepy Cuddles, Smoking, World War II, basically John just gets really cold at one point, its actually fluffier than these tags make it sound, mention of hypothermia, wall make out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:38:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is actually one of the first fics I ever wrote. I recently found a bunch of old fics and snippets on my phone the other day so I'm publishing them. I was so angsty when I was like 14 omg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments but please bare in mind that this is really old.





	1. The Waking

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually one of the first fics I ever wrote. I recently found a bunch of old fics and snippets on my phone the other day so I'm publishing them. I was so angsty when I was like 14 omg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments but please bare in mind that this is really old.

A man of a moderate height was slumped against the filthy, mudded wall of the trench. 

One leg bent against it, propping him up as he stood attempting to light a cigarette. 

Finally the end caught, flared - a little orange red circle lit producing an obscene amount of smoke for such a small object.

His hair was swooped to one side in a sort of fringe, his face was fresh and youthful despite the horror and distress of war that corrupted so many young men. 

His camouflage trousers were tight, they showed off the curve of his thighs and the arch of his calves.

His shirt was loose and his hands slim, one was turning the lighter over and over as the other held the cigarette to his mouth. 

Sherlock watched in great fascination

"You want one?" The voice snapped Sherlock to attention. 

"Oh. N- Uh, yes. Please." He said indecisively, shuffling forwards. His supposedly black boots already turning a horrid brown shade from the mud. 

Sherlock smiled slightly and carefully took the small rolled item from him, he then held a light to it. 

"Thank you..." Sherlock left a gap, not knowing what name to fill it with 

"John" The dashing young man said 

Sherlock leaned back, exhaling the smoke from the cigarette as John dropped his to the floor and crushed it with a simple twist of his boot. 

"So how long you been in?" John asked. 

Sherlock seemed confused 

"The army, the war." John clarified

"I've been in the army for two years." 

John nodded 

"How long have you been in this sector?" He asked

"Twenty one days" Sherlock said, casting his mind back to being placed here. "What about you?" 

"Since 16, my dad is the Commander. This is the only sector I've ever been in, he doesn't like to move me around."

Sherlock eyebrows rose 

"You hate it... or him" He deduced 

John looked up from the muddy patch on the ground

"You also miss someone and feel you should be given more sympathy. You smoke a cigarette everyday, you get moody when you don't... You don't get enough sleep either, that doesn't help" Sherlock continued despite John's widening eyes. 

Sherlock stopped when seeing John's jaw practically on the floor. 

"That was... Amazing" John said, stunned

"You really think so?"

"Yeah. That was great. Why? What do people usually say when you do that?"

"Piss off" Sherlock said grimly, his face cast downwards. 

It made John smile 

"Well. I thought it was cool" 

Sherlock beamed and took another drag of his cigarette 

"So, you got a girl waiting on you back home?" John asked casually 

Sherlock snorted "Girlfriends. Not really my area" 

John quirked an eyebrow but Sherlock did not extend on what he meant 

Light chatter commenced until a rat-faced man, thin and wiry wandered over to them. 

"Oh shut up, you cock sucking spaz." Moriarty said cutting Sherlock's sentence off, shame he had some interesting input on the topic. 

He swooped in and snatched the cigarette that was balanced between Sherlock's nimble fingers. 

Sherlock was stood silently, his blue eyes watching wearily as Moriarty mocked him further by placing the rolled up cigarette near his mouth before pulling a face of disgust and saying:

"You ruined a perfectly good cigarette, I can't use it unless I want to catch some horrible disease of you." 

"Can't catch something you already have." Sherlock said calmly 

Moriarty scrabbled for something insulting to say back and found nothing. 

He turned to stone 

Moriarty gritted his teeth and clenched his fists

Fury was chiseled into his face

"Shut it" He spat before stomping off

John snorted

Sherlock turned to him

"He's just angry I rejected him when he made a move on me my first day here."

John's eyes widened

Clearly he hadn't known, unlike the rest of the barrack, that Moriarty had a massive crush on him and loved to torture Sherlock as payback for not having those feelings returned.

Love is a paralytic, after all. 

Sherlock thought that considering John had clearly been here far longer that he would be caught up on the little gossip there was, maybe he wasn't the type.

Or maybe everyone stayed away from the Commanders son

Sherlock was yet to solve the mystery of John Watson

 

Over the next few weeks they got to know each other better, John had been in the army his whole life so he didn't have as much to say as Sherlock did but that didn't stop him

They'd talk for hours and hours sometimes, usually unmemorable stuff but Sherlock did remember how it felt when John casually, in a friend way, pressed his leg against Sherlock's when they sat together

Or how John would look at him and then his gaze would skitter away with this odd smile, like a naughty child who'd gotten away with something 

John had been playing with Sherlock's shoe lace without realising, suddenly he glanced up at Sherlock with this alarmed look on his face

Sherlock would just smile and redo his laces so that John could breathe again

 

Time faded in and out, passing by like a picture book

It was dark out now and all the men were asleep but not Sherlock - he didn't need sleep, he was too busy thinking. 

Ideas and information like binary code rushed past in his mind like it would on a computer

Calculating, recalculating

Sherlock had stayed up later than usual, judging from the sky it must've been very early morning

He heard a little yelp

Sherlock twisted in the bed, propping himself against the pillow. His head was titled towards the strange noise, it sounded close.  
A few beds over the soldier seemed to be having some kind of fit, he was breathing heavily, shifting about. 

Then a strangled noise, then silence, then another

They seemed in pain

Maybe he was

Sherlock's eyebrows drew together

What the hell were they doing

Quietly getting out of bed, Sherlock padded across the cold room to the soldier

It was John 

His mussed hair was splayed across his pillow, his face was restless

John turned suddenly, gasping for breath

Sherlock rushed forward, was John having some kind of asthma attack? 

Sherlock grabbed ahold of him only to be have a sweaty hand push him back

Sherlock fell clumsily to the floor, nearly hitting his head on the bed behind him

John was sitting upright now, sweaty and slightly shaky

He peered over the bed 

"Sherlock? What are you doing?"

Sherlock sighed, roughly shoving his dark curly hair away from his bright eyes

"No John, what were you doing?"

John sighed and flopped back, the bed creaking as he slammed into his pillow. 

He put a hand over his face, smoothing out his hair. 

"I get nightmares"

Sherlock moved to sit on the end of the bed 

"About what?" Sherlock's fingers were clasped into a triangle, he rested them on his chin

John looked exasperated, his silhouette hunched over in the dim light. 

"Stuff"

"Like what?" Sherlock pressed

"Look, I'm trying to sleep." John pulled the cover over his head 

Sherlock peeled it back

"No. You can't sleep now anyway so you might as well tell me. Explain. What was it about?" Sherlock asked still stood hovering over John

John gave a small smile 

"Clearly you've never had one." 

Sherlock seemed puzzled, he didn't know what to say to that. 

Its true he hadn't ever had a nightmare.

John looked at sherlock, his eyes trailing him as he went to sit back on the end of the bed

Sherlock looked at him expectantly 

"I've been here a long time. I've seen a lot of people pass through this rank. Some of them were my friends, I don't make friends anymore." John said solemnly. 

Sherlock nodded

He knew what it was like, to lose a friend

"Do you mind? I'm a bit chilly." Sherlock said, lifting the covers over his legs. 

He leant against the railing of the end of the bed. Only half of Sherlock was visible now. 

His legs stretched out a little, his cold feet cheekily rested on John's leg. 

John was still too hot, traces of the nightmare still lingering. 

"You can stay if you want. If you stay you are going to have to swap ends though, my nose is not going anywhere near your stinky feet." John said

Outraged Sherlock said "My feet do not stink! And they are nowhere near your face."

John smiled and shook his head. 

"Well they'll be very near me the minute you lie down, which you inevitably will. You look knackered and you clearly aren't leaving."

Sherlock pouted unhappily

"Fine."

He climbed in properly and tried hard to settle down but it was awkward 

Sherlock's toenail scraped against John's shin as he shuffled about trying to get comfy. 

The bed creaked with the weight of the two of them and Sherlock shifting about trying to get better acquainted with the small bed. There was metal digging into places it shouldn't.

John tried to maneuver himself around Sherlock but it was more difficult then he thought it'd be. 

Finally they settled, John was sort of curled up around Sherlock. His arm lay over him in a half embrace  
They was a beat of silence

"Well, any more nightmares?"

"I don't know yet but I'm sure the permanent image of your ugly face trying to get into the bed will haunt me for the rest of my life."

Sherlock still seemed pleased with himself as he and John chuckled lightly 

John sighed, content and shut his eyes 

 

*

 

Fog seeped through the trench

John had been chatting to Greg but stopped suddenly when Sherlock startled him by enthusiastically hopping over.

"Hey. You alright? You seem..." John turned to Greg to ask if he knew the word but he wasn't there anymore

"Oh, where did Greg go?" John asked, his eyebrows scrunched up

Sherlock shrugged, his fingers tapping away at his side. 

"No idea. Anyway, about the other night..." He trailed off 

John blushed a pale pink

"Yes?" John replied, his voice wavering with hesitance 

"You said you don't make friends anymore."

John titled his head

"So why did you befriend me? You didn't have to offer me that cigarette or keep hanging out with me." Sherlock continued, the words flew out of his mouth at a rate of watts

Sherlock was practically bouncing from one foot to the other 

John opened his mouth, then shut it. He'd have to think this one through before Sherlock's meticulous analysing found faults in his reply. 

"I could see you needed a cigarette"

Sherlock stood still 

Then he gave a small smile but shook his head 

"That isn't it."

John shrugged 

That's all Sherlock was going to get

Trying to move the subject on John suggested playing a game. 

Most of the guys were too busy talking or eating lunch so it was easy enough for them to slope off duty 

"What kind of game?" Sherlock inquired 

"I don't know." John replied, stumped. So much for his plan of distraction 

"We could play cards." Sherlock said 

"Where are we going to get cards fr-" John started but stopped after Sherlock procured a small packet of cards from his trouser pocket 

"Where did you get those?" 

"Nicked them off Lestrade, I do it when he annoys me." Sherlock grinned 

"Sherlock Holmes, tall, handsome, and a pick pocketer when irritated." John grinned, shaking his head jokingly 

They sat in a quite space

"If the cards get muddy he'll be angry at me so we'll have to put then somewhere other than the floor. We could balance them on ourselves?"

They sat next to each other, their legs outstretched 

Sherlock handed out the cards, placing a pile on the flat of John's leg and a stack on his own

"So for every time you lose-"

John cut Sherlock off

"What if you lose?" He asked 

"I won't" Sherlock was adamant 

"But what if you do?" John pressed

Sherlock sighed 

"Whoever loses has to answer a question" Sherlock amended 

As the game proceeded and Sherlock kept winning, John got angrier and angrier

He had always been a sore loser 

It had gotten to the point where Sherlock was asking questions about whether John had any pets 

Until finally, finally! 

John had won 

He was silent for a few moments, still absorbing the fact he'd won and thinking of a question 

"What's your biggest secret?"

Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, he leaned his head back against the wall. 

"I killed a man... " Sherlock said, his baby blue eyes opening, a distant look growing in them 

John was silent, he held his breath

They'd all killed someone, this was a war. 

Unless he meant before-

Sherlock burst out laughing, he was shaking with it. 

He leant forward, clutching his stomach as laughter erupted out of him 

"That's not funny, you dickhead." John said, trying to keep a straight face but he couldn't help it, he started to laugh 

Sherlock wiped his eyes and gasped out a few more giggles before quieting 

"No, I've never killer anyone so far. I don't know what my biggest secret is... " Something flared in Sherlock's eyes and he sat up straighter 

"Yes I do. I wanted to be a detective, I still want to be a detective I have done since I was very young. Solving crimes, it's what I'm good at. I helped the police out once or twice as a teenager. I enjoy solving mysteries." Sherlock had this glow around him. 

"I think you'd make a great detective" John smiled 

Sherlock held his gaze 

It slipped down to his mouth, lingered, then shot back up to his eyes 

His dark eyelashes flickered

"So why didn't you?" John asked, looking down at the cards to break the intense stare. 

Sherlock blinked "Why didn't I what?" 

"Become a detective."

"I got roped into the army. My parents thought it'd be a good idea. I didn't have any friends, so it isn't like anyone would miss me." Sherlock muttered

Cheering up he said "I met you though."

They both smiled, their bodies close as they balanced the cards on their legs 

The sky was dark and a crack of thunder in the distance sounded 

It started to rain 

"Shit" Sherlock exclaimed

He couldn't get the cards wet 

He grabbed them from John's leg

He quickly shoved them as neatly as he could into the packet 

They both sprinted inside to find shelter from the weather 

With a relieved sigh Sherlock checked over all the cards 

King of Spades was missing 

Sherlock let a string of curses fly from his mouth, rapid speed 

John had never heard Sherlock swear before today, he didn't know how he felt about it

His scalp tingled

Sherlock had darted back outside to find the card and John rushed out after him 

Sherlock stopped suddenly and John skidded, falling into Sherlock 

John groaned in pain, Sherlock's bony elbow had hit him in the side as they'd fallen. 

They were covered in mud, rain poured down on them

John looked at Sherlock, worried he'd hurt him

Sherlock looked up at John, mud spattered in his hair 

Sherlock smiled and then started to giggle 

He was still lying on the floor 

John smiled 

"What's so funny?"

Between laughs Sherlock managed to say "Your... Face..." 

"Oh yeah?" John said, grabbing a handful of mud 

He pounced on Sherlock, shoving it in his face 

Sherlock was still laughing and now John was too, mud coated both of them as they rolled around giggling like school girls 

Every time they think they'd stopped they'd look at one another and start all over again. 

Sherlock got up first, his long slender hand offered John a lift up

They sludged toward the camp

 

They found Greg after and gave him the cards back

Sherlock uttered apologies over losing the King of Spades 

To which Greg looked utterly confused 

"What?"

"The King of Spades, we lost it."

Greg shook his head "The King of Spades has been missing for years."


	2. The Rising

Chatter rose and fell

Moriarty was being a wanker as usual, strutting about the place and making rude comments 

John and Sherlock had sat out of the way, to the side in their usual spot. Greg would wander over now and then and share some news and a cigarette before trudging back to a different group 

Sherlock seemed restless, his fingers tapped silent tunes on his knees 

Sherlock started suddenly 

"Did you ever think that maybe-" 

He broke off, his pale cheeks flooded with a rose tinge 

John looked up, interested

Barley anything caught Sherlock off and made him shy

John leaned forward a bit 

"Think what?" 

John repeated it, trying to needle an answer out of him

But it was too late 

Sherlock had clammed up like a shell 

His blue eyes were wide with thoughts that were whizzing through his head

John wished he knew what Sherlock was thinking 

But Sherlock was as unpredictable as they came 

 

*

 

"Isn't there anything you can take for the nightmares?" Sherlock asked, his tired eyes shadowed as he sat on the end of John's bed. 

He couldn't sleep when John was awake, equally he couldn't sleep when John was in dream land because his little snuffles and strangled noises would keep Sherlock up 

John shook his head "I've tried everything. The only thing that really helps is... Company."

Sherlock smiled and sat cross legged on the end of John's bed, talking as he did every night since he found out about John's nightmares. 

At some point Sherlock might get into bed if he felt too tired to go back to his own, John found his nightmares come and go since Sherlock started staying with him

John sighed and rubbed his forehead, his eyes closing. He kept peeling them back open to stay awake, to stay away from the haunting dreams 

But he found himself fading as Sherlock continued to talk about his discovery of something or other to do with mud samples. 

It was enough to put anyone to sleep

 

When they woke they were wrapped around each other like a boe around a Christmas present. 

Sherlock had been awake for a while, his mind never slept

He was constantly churning out thoughts and ideas up there 

He had decided not to move as he was warm and comfortable 

And John was currently lying on his chest

His cheek was flat against Sherlock, if he'd have been awake he would've heard how hard Sherlock's heart was beating

It was pounding against his ribs in an almost painful rhythm 

They lay there, in an embrace for a good half hour before deciding they should get up before the other soldiers noticed

It was going to be a hard day, the weather was brutal 

But so were the troops 

 

*

 

Sherlock leant his leg against John's as they sat together, the rain pattering down on them. 

Sherlock briefly lay his head against John's shoulder, slouching down before sitting up straight at the sound of other soldiers nearby 

Sherlock's curls flattened against his head and his eyelashes were starred with water

Rain dribbled down his face, John wanted to trace the lines where droplets had rolled but knew he couldn't, shouldn't. 

There were other people around now, he didn't want to cause a ruckus

But looking at Sherlock he wished he could

He sighed and looked away, the rain was starting to chill his bones, it seeped in through the layers of his clothes. 

His boots felt water logged and he felt tired and cold, his eyes slipped closed 

 

John was being shaken, someone was shouting in his ear. 

"John! John! Wake up! John!" 

His eyelashes felt glued down, it took effort to lift them 

A concerned Sherlock was hovering over him, his hands on either side of John's face. 

He blinked slowly 

The line between Sherlock's eyes deepened 

"Come on. Your lips are going blue."

Sherlock heaved John to his feet. 

Sherlock stumbled supporting John, his shoulder was hung over Sherlock who had a steady hand on his back. 

John half limped, trying to help but his feet were frozen and his knees wobbled. 

He was shivering violently. 

Sherlock tried to place John in the bed gently but failed, John fell like a stone and landed with a loud thump. 

Sherlock muttered multiple apologies and got working on taking off John's shoes and socks, moving up to his shirt, his vest. 

They were soaked with water. 

John teeth chattered, his cold skin prickled slowly warming up. Slowly.   
Sherlock lifted the blanket over him and helped change him into dry trousers, trying hard to respect John's privacy but it was a little difficult trying to pull the material up. 

John's wet leg kept making the trousers stick to him and his fingers hadn't quiet warmed up enough yet making his effort clumsy and uncoordinated. 

Finally Sherlock tucked John into the bed and climbed in with him. 

John immediately pushed up against Sherlock, unconsciously seeking warmth. He placed his icy hands on him, his face was nuzzled into Sherlock's curls and his nose skimmed the junction of Sherlock's pale neck. 

Sherlock shivered and wrapped his arms around John, pulling him closer. 

 

The dawn was rising.

John had woken, he was no longer cold. Sherlock's body heat and the blankets had warmed him up 

Sherlock was lying next to John on the narrow bed, their hands clasped together. 

It seemed that Sherlock was sleeping soundly, his eyes were closed and his hair was spread around him like a dark halo

"Who is it that you miss so much?" Sherlock whispered

It startled John, he thought Sherlock was asleep. 

John had been trying to keep his breathing even and stay quiet so as not to disturb Sherlock 

"What?" John asked, his voice hushed

"When I first met you, I deduced you missed someone. Who is it?" Sherlock clarified

It never ceased to amaze John how observant and intelligent Sherlock was

"My sister, mostly. She died the year my dad forced me to join the army. There had been an attack on the town she was evacuated to. I never forgave myself or my dad. If I'd stayed with her she would've been sent somewhere else, she'd never have... " 

John sighed and turned towards Sherlock, their legs tangled together

Sherlock looked down at John's mournful face, his eyes were eclipsed by emotions and memories. 

Sherlock moved forward slowly 

He leaned down and kissed John softly, his tongue traced the seam of John's mouth. 

He cupped John's face. He responded, his hand moved up from the covers to behind Sherlock's head, his fingers locked into his dark curls. 

They drew apart and John's breath fanned across Sherlock's face. 

Sherlock blinked, a smile graced his face 

He'd known for a while now that his feelings weren't unrequited but the conformation was appreciated 

"Thank you." John said, forgetting to whisper. 

A soldier nearby rustled, nearly waking. 

When they heard the soldier lapse back into loud snores they smiled secretly. 

John rolled over and curled himself into Sherlock, his back to him. 

Their arms wrapped around each other, John's hand over Sherlock's as they drifted into sleep. 

 

John woke up alone, Sherlock was gone.

John dressed quickly 

He felt slightly panicked because of the kiss they'd shared 

Did Sherlock regret it? 

Was it just to distract John?

Did that mean his feelings were reciprocated?

Was it a one time thing?

His head buzzed with questions and doubts 

John wandered around trying to find Sherlock

He saw him, sat against the wall in their usual spot with Greg

They were chatting and Sherlock leaned forward to whisper something and Greg shook with laugher

John stomped over, fuming

Smoke was practically coming out of his ears

He hadn't thought he was the jealous type but he had grown very fond of Sherlock, more so than he probably should've done 

Sherlock looked up and smiled "John-" 

He faltered in his cheery tone upon seeing John's face 

"What's wrong?" He asked concern etched into his face 

Greg cleared his throat and announced he was going to clean his boots 

Sherlock stood up, his elegant legs unfolding 

Sherlock stood there, squinting slightly trying to examine the situation 

Clearly he came up with nothing for he said "What's the matter?"

John blew out a hard breath and clutched his hair, yanking it slightly

Sherlock was so infuriating sometimes and so dense

Sherlock's eyes widened 

He stepped closer and grabbed John's hand that was fisted in his own hair and gently drew them down to his sides 

Lightly touching the side of his face with his palm he urged John to tell him.

"You." John said, more upset than angry 

His embarrassment was leaking through 

Maybe the feelings were only on his side

He felt like an idiot, stampeding his way over here 

Sherlock ushered "Is this because I kissed you? Would you rather I hadn't?"

John let our an exasperated laugh 

"Rather you-" He sighed, shaking his head 

"Why did you kiss me?" John murmured

Sherlock brushed his dark hair out of his eyes 

"Because...You needed a distraction"

John felt himself shrinking

His ears burned poker hot 

"And because I like you" Sherlock added

John looked up, hope painted across his face 

Sherlock smiled "Yes. I mean as more than a friend, I like you."

John felt a weight lift of his chest - Relief, happiness, joy?

Who cares 

John flung himself towards Sherlock, who was taken a little off guard 

Sherlock's back was now pressed against the wall

His arms wound around John's back, securing him in place 

John rested his forehead against Sherlock's 

"What are you doing to me? I'd never normally pounce on someone." John said 

Sherlock giggled 

He pressed his nose against John's until their mouths met 

A long languid kiss continued until soldiers footsteps could be heard pounding against the floor.

A soldier was making his way over to them, upon seeing what they were doing he slowed then stopped. 

The young soldier was red from running but turned a deeper shade at seeing Sherlock and John, who were now swiftly untangling themselves from one another 

Luckily the interrupting soldier was a kind and never joined in with the others jeers. 

Sherlock was not popular, he often got called things like freak and weirdo. 

They were glad it was Nicholson that had found them 

Occasionally Nicholson would even tell the other soldiers to shut up and he would shoot an apologetic glance towards Sherlock if they didn't.

He stood there, his hand scratching the back of his neck nervously. 

His face still coated in cherry blossom pink

With as much dignity as he could John said "Yes. What is it, Nicholson?" 

"It's- It's the Commander, he wants to see you"

John sighed 

Of course John's dad would be the one to ruin his moment 

Giving Sherlock a brief kiss he went off to see what his father wanted.

 

Not long afterwards John reappeared walking around the trenches, chatting mostly to Greg to find out where Sherlock was 

"Speak of the devil"

"And the devil shall appear" Sherlock muttered

Seeing the intense look John shared with Sherlock, Greg decided it was best if he left 

"Was it alright?" Sherlock asked, his thumb grazing against John's wrist before remembering they were in public 

He snapped his hand away 

"Yeah. My dad just wanted an update on how everything was, the usual; Are the trenches sufficient, make sure everyone gets enough sleep, punish slackers, blah blah blah"

John rolled his eyes 

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little

"Well, at least you don't have to report back to him for a while."

John sighed "True" 

 

*

 

Sherlock and John kept quiet about their relationship, they didn't want any trouble off anyone. 

The only person they'd told was Greg, who made a sassy retort about how they needn't have bothered as it was about as obvious as a neon sign

Oh and Nicholson but as far as they were aware, he hadn't mentioned it to anyone. 

It was dark out and all the soldiers were knackered from the long day but John and Sherlock were still awake 

Sherlock didn't even bother sleeping in his bed anymore, he just shared John's.

John's nightmares were very occasional now, he was grateful he'd met Sherlock. 

John's chin was resting on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock moved slowly until he was facing John fully, their eyes at the same level 

John blinked, his pupils focusing to see Sherlock in the dim light 

"I can't believe I nearly didn't join the army" He said 

John smiled, his face shuffled forward slightly on the pillow to get closer to Sherlock's ear 

"I'm glad you did. Shame in a way, you would've been one epic detective. If only we'd have met some other way, then I could be your partner in crime."

"You're already my partner in crime."

Sherlock's breath tiptoed over John, brushing lightly against his cheek 

John moved forward, closer, closer 

He lightly pressed his lips to Sherlock's soft ones 

He tried to copy the first kiss but found he didn't need to, they fit together perfectly 

They moved with one another like a body of water 

John, deciding to be a bit risky and put his leg around Sherlock's waist.

Sherlock made a startled noise and kissed John harder 

The bed creaked 

Flushing red, John tried to move his leg back but that made it worse 

Sherlock chortled

The bed creaked again 

Sherlock's little giggle soon turned into full blown laughter

John joined in, the awkwardness dissipating with Sherlock's amusement. 

They're hushed sniggers were not as quite as they had thought 

The bed creaked louder as they laughed 

John's stomach hurt and Sherlock was gasping for breath 

They finally stopped after a soldier from a few beds down said "Shut up, fags. I'm trying to sleep" 

Sherlock winced at the harsh words

John felt more than saw Sherlock's flinch 

His hand reached under the cover to clasp Sherlock's 

They're hands remained linked together 

Waiting for the soldier to fall back asleep they had a silent conversation, their mouths shaped words but they didn't make a sound.

 

*

 

Due to the previous night it had become common knowledge that Sherlock and John were together

Some soldiers would make snide comments when they'd walk past or they would snap into silence if either John or Sherlock entered the room.

Sometimes it bothered John and other times he thought he didn't care 

He'd much rather hang out with Sherlock over any of them anyway 

John pulled a packet of cigarettes from his back pocket. 

"You want one?" 

Sherlock chuckled, nostalgia hitting him

"Sure." 

Sherlock inhaled, feeling the burn of the nicotine climbing into his lungs 

"If my mother knew..." he commented, shaking his head at himself and blowing out a breath of smoke 

"Your mum doesn't like smoking?" John asked, surprised

For some reason it had never occurred to him that Sherlock had parents, obviously he did, it just wasn't something John associated with Sherlock. He'd always seem such a lone wolf. 

"No, she hated it." Sherlock said 

Past tense? 

Then it registered 

John's eyes softened with sympathy.

"It was a while ago. Sure, I miss her sometimes but I was young when she passed." He said

Sherlock took another drag of his cigarette 

John joined him

 

Moriarty was currently at the centre of the room, spouting off about how he would be a great war hero and that he'd lead all of them to glory 

John pointed out, much to Moriarty's annoyance, that he couldn't lead them to glory as he wasn't the leader of this barrack. 

In fact Moriarty wasn't even the deputy as that position had been taken by a polite but reserved soldier named Rogers 

Moriarty huffed out a breath and glared at John, he couldn't say anything against it as John was right. 

Sherlock was watching with a bemused smile, Moriarty saw it and spat insults at him as he strode past 

It just made Sherlock smile wider 

John got under Moriarty's skin and for some reason that pleased Sherlock to no end 

They'd stay up late into the night to make fun of Moriarty and that stompy little walk he had 

They'd laughed and had to put a hand over their mouth so as not to wake the sleeping soldiers. 

 

*

 

The day flicked past, hours dripped by like a leaky tap 

Greg didn't bother them today, he was too busy nattering away with Anderson and Hooper

"You never tell me about yourself." John said suddenly. "Isn't there anything else you miss?" 

Sherlock shrugged, he set his cup onto the floor

"My violin"

John seemed mildly surprised - He didn't think Sherlock had enough patience to learn to play anything 

Though he could see why Sherlock had picked such an elegant instrument. 

"You should play it for me, if we ever get out of this war." John said 

Sherlock smiled. "I'd love to"


	3. The Fall

As the sun was setting they got up

On their way they saw a tall, blonde soldier trying to hurry past to avoid attention

Freckles spattered his cheeks and brushed across his nose. His tired eyes drifted. 

"Rogers" John called

The soldier snapped to attention and scuttled over

"Tell everyone to regroup and head back to the barracks, we'll need as much sleep as we can get for tomorrow's mission."

He seemed hesitant, either from tiredness or from reluctance to pass on commands that weren't directly from John's father 

"That's an order corporal." John barked

"Yes sir" The soldier said, before being dismissed 

Sherlock smirked

John was sexy when he was being all authoritative

As soon as the soldier was out of sight Sherlock dragged John round the corner to a sheltered area, where they couldn't be seen. 

Gently pushing him into the wall he whispered in John's ear 

"That was incredibly hot" 

Sherlock's hair tickled John's neck as he left a slow trail of kisses from John's ear and along his neck.

John sighed and leaned his head back but put a hand on Sherlock's chest pushing him lightly. 

"I can't. I want to, trust me. But my dads requested to see me."

Sherlock seemed crestfallen and his face tightened when John mentioned his dad. 

"Will you be okay?" Sherlock asked, his eyes flitting over John's features. 

John gave an uneasy laugh "It's my dad, so no. Hopefully he'll be okay this time, I don't know what he wants though. Its making me nervous."

Sherlock took John's hand, his thumb rubbing against the soft skin. 

"It'll be fine. I'll meet you afterwards." Sherlock gave John a brief, butterfly kiss 

John trudged over to his father's encampment

Sherlock watched with wary eyes as he saw John disappear into it. 

 

Hours later John stumbled in

Sherlock had stayed up waiting for him

John was clearly drunk

He laughed loudly as he flopped onto his bed

John must've persuaded whoever was in charge of giving out rations to give him a little more alcohol than he was allowed. 

Sherlock sighed, it must've been bad for John to resort to drinking

Sherlock hesitantly went over to John's bed, he leaned over him. 

John looked up at him, his pupils blown wide. 

John hiccupped a giggle and grabbed Sherlock's shirt, he tumbled forward and sighed. 

He was awkwardly lying next to John, half dangling off the bed, half covering John. 

John put his cold hands on Sherlock's hips then moved up to rest them on his stomach and chest, raising the shirt slightly. He shoved his nose against Sherlock's neck. 

"Missed you" He slurred into Sherlock's ear, Sherlock could smell the after taste of liquor on John's breath

Sherlock put an arm around John's small figure, his cheek rested against John's head. 

Sherlock would have to ask John what happened tomorrow

John was soon sleeping, his breathing was regular and reassuring to Sherlock. 

 

The morning came sooner than John would've liked 

The day was sunny and bright, John hated it

He regretted getting drunk, he knew it would only make him feel worse in the long run. 

He felt groggy and his mouth felt like cotton, his throat was dry

His stomach sloshed as he sat up, he felt too hot. 

Sherlock was sleeping soundly next to him

He tried to move from under the covers into a sitting position, without waking Sherlock. 

His feet dangled a few centimetres above the floor 

"What happened?" Sherlock asked, his voice deeper than usual. 

John sighed and bent forward, his head leaning into his neck palm. His head ached and his heart felt heavy. 

Slowly John explained, his head still felt clogged due to last nights stupidity. 

"He wants me to move barracks. He thinks I'm being 'influenced' and says it's bad for the other troops, who have complained. Which translates to meaning that fuck face Moriarty has told my dad about us." 

Sherlock was still lying in the bed, he rolled onto his side and rubbed John's back 

"He won't move you. I promise, it won't happen." Sherlock tried to comfort him 

John turned towards him and smiled softly, sadly. 

"We'll see" 

They dressed quickly and tried hard to avoid other troops 

They moved through the crowd who were stood around 

Moriarty was leant against a wall 

He saw John and smirked

His eyes narrowed as the grin spread across his face like an evil Cheshire cat 

Something bubbled up in John and boiled over

He lunged forward

A loud thwack could be heard from John's fist smashing into Moriarty's face

Moriarty tackled John, his arms shoving into John's stomach, pushing them both backward into the mud 

Moriarty aimed a pathetic punch at John's jaw 

Throwing Moriarty off him, John stumbled to his feet 

Turning he saw Moriarty lunging, attempting another jab at John. He missed.

Soldiers crowded around but none helped, they just watched 

John hit Moriarty's upper head, knocking him to the side 

Nails scratching and hands grabbing fistfuls of the others clothes, Sherlock finally came to his senses and yanked John off Moriarty 

He felt no regret or sorrow for Moriarty who was pressing his fingers to the side of his face where bruising would no doubt show in a few days 

John shrugged himself free of Sherlock's grip 

"Fuck you" John spat at Moriarty before turning and walking away 

Sherlock followed after him 

They could hear Moriarty shouting profanities at them 

John just clenched his fist and kept walking 

Sherlock was too busy worrying about John to even comprehend the rubbish that Moriarty was yabbering. 

Besides he didn't understand why Moriarty would use insults homophobic slurs when he was also gay. 

Clearing his mind of Moriarty, Sherlock followed John to a small room where the bruised man slumped next to a dirty sink 

John ran his hand under the tap for a few minutes

Sherlock had spent his first week here observing everything, he hadn't had the distraction of John and he liked to know a place before when stayed there 

He remembered seeing some bandages somewhere 

Sherlock closed his eyes 

Ah 

Found them 

Sherlock muttered that he'd be back soon and hurried off to find the bandages 

He entered the room again, John was sat on an old, shabby seat that looked worthy of giving someone tetanus 

"Got them." Sherlock said

He shoved his hair out of his face and knelt down next to John, who let out a sigh and an apology. 

"What are you sorry for?" Sherlock asked as he delicately bandaged John's knuckles 

"I didn't want you to see me like that." He said, now in a slumped position. 

His head was a few centimeters away from Sherlock's 

If sherlock knelt up a bit higher their noses would touch

"I've seen you at your best, I don't mind seeing you at your worse. Besides, your worst is pretty hot and Moriarty deserved it, he's had it coming for a while."

John smiled a little 

Sherlock took John's hands and kissed over the bandages

"Thank you" John said. 

 

They spent the rest of the day on John's bed, John didn't want to face other people. 

Sherlock lazed about, stretching himself across John's tiny bed. John was sat by the pillows, his knees by his chin in a scrunched up position 

"If we were detectives what kind of cases do you think we'd get?"

John looked at Sherlock thoughtfully then grinned 

"The kind where Kings seek our assistance in secret to cover up a scandal."

Sherlock rolled over so that he was on his stomach, his legs flying in the air as he swung them around.

"Oh yes, that's a good one. I was thinking more boring like a serial killer problem"

John snorted a laugh "Serial killer crimes are hardly boring."

"Well after we get out of this godforsaken place we can set up a secret investigator service. People can discreetly contact us so that we can help solve their mysteries. We'll have to live in London. There is always some sort of heinous crime going on there."

"Have you ever been to London?" John asked, amused 

Sherlock nodded "I used to live there. I still have the flat, so we can move in there once this is all over."

John sat up properly 

"What?"

Sherlock blinked, realising he must've missed something 

"What?" Sherlock asked 

"M-Move in? You... You want me to live with you?" John stuttered 

Sherlock nodded, before he stiffened. He turned over to face John. 

"Do you not want to move in with me? I know it might seem sudden but who knows when this war will end it might be in 20 years time or something."

John was still reeling from the fact Sherlock wants to stay with him. Snapping it of it, words burst from his mouth hurrying to fill the empty space. 

"Of course I want to move in! I'm just- I didn't realise you-"

John lurched forward 

Their teeth clashed and their tongues wrestled.

The broke apart and Sherlock's dark hair was dishevelled and his pupils were wide 

"I-" Sherlock seemed dazed and unsure what to say 

He'd never been like this before, incapable of speech 

Shaking himself from his stupor he continued to tell John about what they would do in London 

They talked and kissed and talked and kissed until the other soldiers came in 

This time when the lights went out John and sherlock actually went to sleep 

 

*

 

It was raining again, the damp disgruntled. Everyone had been sat quietly against the trench wall, eating their meagre lunches when they heard it. 

It was like a star exploding, the noise shook the earth. 

Food was dropped as people shot to their feet. 

A litany of swear words fell from John's mouth, tumbling over one another. 

Men scattered, clambering to protect themselves. 

John gripped Sherlock's hand

The noises were louder, raining down on them like Hell's fire 

Through the disorientation and confusion John somehow lost hold of Sherlock's hand 

Bombs were going off, tear gas spilling into the trench. 

Fire erupted and weapons rumbled, it was like strobe lighting for ears

A shriek ripped out of John's throat, shouting for Sherlock 

"John" He heard Sherlock say faintly 

They start towards one another 

An explosion boomeranged around them, the Earth in front of him raised and mud and shrapnel flew in every direction 

Sherlock was thrown backward by the force, John was far enough away not to be affected 

The biting cold was slowing him down 

"SHERLOCK"

Time stood still

He was lying in a small heap on the floor, his dark hair trailing in the mud

Red was streaked across his forehead like the swipe of a paint brush

Sherlock didn't respond 

John shouldered his way through the chaos to him. 

He knelt by him, panic bubbling in his chest 

Sherlock's pale face was turned to the side, blood dripping down. 

John shook him 

Sherlock remained unmoving 

John's breathing increased, his heart chugged like a train. 

He gathered Sherlock into his arms, pulling him closer.

He put his ear next to Sherlock's mouth and nose 

He was still breathing 

John gasped a relieved sob 

He knelt his forehead against Sherlocks, his hair dripped. 

Drops of rain and tears splattered down onto Sherlock's motionless face 

John carried Sherlock in his arms, tottering with Sherlock's weight as his long legs dragged. 

He carried him into the camp, bullets and bombs flying as he made his way over to the medics ward 

He lay Sherlock onto a make shift bed 

Someone soon rushed over to help 

The ward was nearly full, only two beds were unoccupied 

People were moaning in agony 

Sherlock remained silent as they worked on him, John knew he should go back out and continue fighting. 

He also knew he'd end up getting shot, too occupied with thoughts of Sherlock's well being so he remained sat next to him clutching his hand. 

Sherlock still wasn't awake, John missed those blue eyes already. 

He overheard the medics hushed discussion. 

They were going to transport him to a hospital in the city, it seemed Sherlock wouldn't be waking up for a while. 

John watched as Sherlock was wheeled away. 

John was frozen in place, unable to follow Sherlock

He was stuck, separated and hurting as a loved one was taken from him yet again. 

John had been in this situation so many times before, previous friends and comrade injured, sometimes they didn't return. 

John hoped, with dread in his heart, that Sherlock would return to him. 

He sank down into a spiral of self pity and anxiety

He kept trying to tell himself that Sherlock would be fine

John knew that from the moment he saw those ocean blue eyes that he'd sink into them, but he never thought he'd drown.

 

*

 

Days passed slowly, trickling past like thick honey but less sweet

John wallowed in worry

Sherlock never left his thoughts. 

Greg would say something and Sherlock's snappy retort would follow but only in John's head. 

Sherlock still wasn't back 

Still wasn't awake 

Still wasn't with John 

The nightmares were worse now, before it had been old wounds that had mostly healed - His sister, his friends, people he knew. 

Now it was Sherlock flat lining in a hospital. Sherlock getting shot down, Sherlock being ripped apart by a bomb, Sherlock getting suffocated in his sleep by Moriarty, or by his father. 

Or worse, no one ever telling John if Sherlock woke up, no one telling him if he died. 

These dreams tormented him 

John would cry, wrapped up in a sweaty mass of bedding unable to escape. 

Then he'd wake and would do anything to stay that way, would dig his nails in and poke his sides. 

The circles under his eyes grew darker but he would not rest 

He feared sleep 

 

*

 

"Dad, please." John begged, his voice unstable. 

"No John, it would set a bad example to fellow troops if I let my son leave the battle field for another boy, of all things!" He said sternly, his first slamming on the table. 

"Besides. He isn't even conscious yet, I checked with his nurse."

John could feel tears begin to start, it felt like they were shredding his eyes.

He could not cry in front of his dad, he'd be seen as weak and effeminate. 

He didn't want to, he wouldn't. 

He turned away

"Thanks for nothing, as usual" He managed to say before walking out the door and momentarily out of his father's control. 

Instead of going straight back to the trenches John went to his bunk.   
He would not be a puppet

He rebelled silently and probably unacknowledged by lying in his bed all day

He drifted in and out of sleep

All he could think about was caressing Sherlock's dark curls, imagining he was here with him. 

He sat with him in his dreams wishing for him to get better. 

Then he'd wake and think about how Sherlock wasn't here to curl up next to and he'd feel something break in him all over again. 

He missed him, it was like a cavernous ache in his heart that could not be filled. 

John knew if he were to ever say how he felt out loud he'd be seen as ridiculous.

Guess that's what love is though, isn't it? 

 

*

 

The sound of shots and the smell of blood woke him. 

John got up, tired and ready for battle - as always but more so than usual

He felt that something about today was different 

Maybe it was the buzz of bullets in the air or the atmosphere of blood and death.

Something just seemed off

He marched out with his rank onto the field

"Hey Watson. Where you been? Its chaos out here don't tell me you slept through it." Greg said 

John shrugged and rubbed his eyes

He watched for the signal

He raised his gun, about to shoot

That's when he saw him

The scruffy man that limped towards them, back arched forward like he was dragging a heavy weight. 

Oh god

They didn't

They didn't

It was Anderson, he had been captured a couple weeks ago. 

He had something strapped to his leg as he walked forward, moaning like an injured animal his face streaked with dirt and blood. 

John had never liked Anderson but this- No one deserved this. 

Greg nudged him. "John? What's wrong?" 

John's teeth chattered. "Anderson, they've... They've..." He pointed. 

"Oh my god." Greg said, noticing the limping figure. 

As Anderson got closer the thing strapped to his leg became clearer

It was a bomb

"Get back! Get back! He's got a bomb!" John screamed, only Greg heard him over the sound of guns and grief. 

"Get back everyone!" He screeched, his voice reaching higher. 

Soldiers heard and shuffled away

Anderson stopped suddenly, realisation plastered like a flier across his filthy face. 

He stumbled back a few steps

Then a few more

A patch of red suddenly spread across his chest, they'd shot him. The bullet whistled straight through.

"No!"

John marched forward, going against every method of training that had ever been drilled into him, giving over to rage for his fallen comrade.

How could they do that? 

Were there no limits when it came to war? 

He continued forward

"John stop."

Greg followed after him, not far behind

A crack ripped through the air

Followed by John's mouth opening into a surprised O 

He made no sound as he fell toward the dirt

"JOHN!"

Greg rushed over to him 

He dragged John, a hand under each arm, back to safety. 

They were behind the trench wall

Greg let out a breath of relief

They'd get John a medic and he would be fine. 

He'd be fine

John was quiet, still in shock

Blood seeped through his uniform and the bullet dug into John's ribcage

"Medic! Medic!" Greg shouted

Moriarty stood nearby smoking a cigarette, no medic came

"You didn't hear?" He said

"George got shot, Dale is too busy looking after his fellow medic to be out saving the likes of John Watson, no matter who his daddy is." Moriarty smirked. 

"Well then do me a favour and fuck off. Try to get Dale, he has the time to help me patch up John's wounds, he needs assistance. Go on, scarper."

A frown formed on Moriarty's face but he did leave, unhappily so

John clutched at Greg's hand which was being pressed into his wound, putting pressure on it. 

John knew it was no good

"Greg." His voice scratched like an old CD. 

Greg snapped his attention to John

"Please, I need you to- To tell Sher- Ahh" He winced. 

"Tell him I love him... And that I'm sorry. Please. Promise me. " He gasped. 

"I promise, I promise. You'll be fine though, you'll get to tell Sherlock you love him yourself, yeah?" Greg assured him.

"Sher-" He coughed

John gurgled, blood dripped out of the side of his mouth. 

His lungs rattled, it sounded like water boiling as he breathed. 

"Now keep still, so I can- John? John are you still with me? "

He was silent

His chest was no longer moving

His eyes were vacant 

"Oh John." Greg gulped

How was he going to tell the commander? 

How was he going to tell Sherlock?

 

*

 

Sherlock woke with a slow smile as he saw the uniformed man standing tall in front of him. 

He fiddled with the cannula strapped to his nose. 

Someone must've told John he'd woken up yesterday 

"John" He said, quietly

The figure lifted their head

Not John

"Greg? Where's John?" Sherlock asked, eyebrows furrowed 

Greg's face was strained, as was his voice

"He's- Sherlock, he's-"

"He's what? Greg, he's what?"

Greg gave him a stricken look, his face looked gaunt with sorrow 

Sherlock was shaking his head, the heart monitor raced and blipped all over

"No, he isn't. I didn't get better to find out-"

Sherlock tried to gulp down this rising feeling in him but he couldn't 

"Where's John? Tell me Greg, where is John?" 

Sherlock near screamed, tears ripping through his eyes like he was crying droplets of metal, scraping against his eyes and skin as they dripped down. 

It felt like they were cutting him open 

Greg's chin wobbled

"I'm so sorry Sherlock." 

He swiftly left, his mouth a straight line, his eyes watery.

A nurse hurried over to a sobbing Sherlock who felt like his heart had just been shredded, pieces falling apart. 

They sedated him, Sherlock watched, numb, as the liquid went up the tube that was strapped into his arm 

He just kept whispering the same thing over and over 

"I love you, John. I love you. I love you. IloveyouIloveyoyIloveyou"

 

*

 

Sherlock had been released from hospital but he was still in pain, his chest burned.

It was John's funeral today

He would have that classic military funeral with the flag and all the troops there. 

Except Moriarty 

If that sorry bastard ever showed his face to Sherlock he wouldn't have one left afterwards 

The procession began

John's dad, stood solemnly at the front ready to give his speech

He mentioned how he loved John and wished he'd been kinder to him.

He told a few stories about John 

Then at the very end he surprised Sherlock when he, in front of everyone at the funeral, apologised to him

He said he was sorry that he hadn't let his son be happy

Sherlock felt touched and also slightly embarrassed

Kind words would not fill John's space

But he was grateful for them none the less 

Sherlock didn't have friends

He had John 

And now he didn't

Sherlock remembered it in a bit of a blur, going up to the coffin

Placing his hand on it and wishing he still had his John here with him

 

*

 

He found out that it was a Tuesday when John died

It was also a Tuesday when Sherlock had woke up, exactly one week after John's death. 

He hated Tuesdays

If that Tuesday didn't happen then John would still be alive 

And if the Tuesday he woke up wouldn't have happened Sherlock would never have had to know 

He wished he'd stayed asleep forever.

Leaving the funeral was hard, he avoided John's father and mainly stuck around with Greg who wore a terrible look of guilt on his face despite the fact he couldn't have saved John anyway. He did try. Sherlock has to remind himself of that sometimes, that he'd tried. 

 

Months passed 

Sherlock was still melancholy and suffering from the hole John left when he had passed. 

He'd rang Greg to find out how it had happened and learned that John's last words were that he loved Sherlock. Sherlock had sobbed for what felt like days, stuck in a state of dehydration. 

He'd be alright sometimes, he'd think of something and plan to say it out loud cause he knows it would make John laugh

Then he would remember that John isn't there anymore and he would sink back into his slump

His brother Mycroft had tried to help but gave up after one too many drunken hits and stinging insults 

Sherlock eased off the alcohol but it took a long time for him to be sober enough to face life without the numbing affects of a drink 

Sherlock remembered a promise he made to John a long time ago and decided that today would be the day to fulfill it 

Sherlock climbed up a small hill to the graveyard

This was the first time he'd visited John 

It had been months since John's funeral but Sherlock just couldn't bring himself to visit

The stone was smooth, John's name was engraved in it with a sweet message 

He knelt down and touched the Earth where John lay 

Tears stung in the corners of his eyes but Sherlock swallowed them down 

He pretended John was here, sat on the stone before him, wearing a vibrant smile as he waited patiently. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and put the violin to his cheek 

The bow brushed the stings and all of Sherlock's emotions poured out through the instrument 

He had composed a song especially for John 

It was filled with heartache and loneliness 

The chattering birds fell silent to listen to this sorrowful tune

It drew to a close. 

Sherlock opened his eyes 

He had expected to see a smiling John, a John full of praise and love

But John wasn't there anymore 

His other half was gone and Sherlock would never see him again 

He placed a hand on the grave and wished for him back 

John Watson, died-

Sherlock turned away, he couldn't read the rest.


End file.
